"she felt the water collect on her skin"
breathing in the rain,
she felt the water
collect on her skin,
clinging to her
like a rose petal
holding on until
the very last moment
She closed her eyes
to remember a young girl
running, jumping,
stomping into a puddle
to watch her reflection
burst into pieces
to join the sky,
the river, the ocean,
ancient and foretelling
Kenneth Johnson is a poet and visual artist living in southern California. His work has been published in Carousel, The Diaspora/UC Berkeley, Hitchlit Review, Humana Obscura, Boundless Anthology of Rio Grande Valley Poetry, and other publications.
Warehouse of Broken Wheels
The grief counselor informed me
the free-trial subscription period
was ending soon, and it was time
to decide — enroll or cancel.
Eventually, it all comes ‘round,
you said misery loves company,
yet the company closed up shop,
packed it in, left town, no notice,
not even a lousy fire sale,
not even for heaven’s sake,
just flashes of light prints
dimming as they walk away.
Nothing to do now but take shelter
in a warehouse of broken wheels
Kenneth Johnson is a poet and visual artist living in southern California. His work has been published in Carousel, The Diaspora/UC Berkeley, Hitchlit Review, Humana Obscura, Boundless Anthology of Rio Grande Valley Poetry, and other publications.